Page 4 of Nitro

I finally managed to find my voice, "You too."

I could hear Marc's audible groan behind me, no doubt exasperated by our flirting.

"You all packed?" Nitro asked, changing the topic.

I nodded and gestured to the belongings stacked in the corner.

"I brought Spike with me. He has a truck. We'll put all your stuff there,” Nitro said.

"I heard your motorcycle, you know,” I couldn’t help but point out. But then, I cleared my throat, not wanting to sound too eager. "So I'm riding with you?"

Nitro let out a deep, sexy laugh that sent a shiver down my spine.

"You bet," he said with a wink. "I remembered you enjoyed our ride last time."

“Move, let’s get this over with,” Marc grumbled.

He had picked up one of my boxes. I exchanged a quick glance with Nitro, and together, we gathered the rest of my meager possessions.

I didn't own much. After all, I had spent the majority of my life as someone's prisoner, robbed of the opportunity to accumulate belongings or make a space truly my own.

In fact, I hadn't even had the time to break in the new things I had brought with me.

Nitro and I made quick work of moving my belongings out of Marc's apartment.

It only took two trips to bring everything down. As we stood by the door, ready to leave, I turned to Spike, Nitro's best friend.

"Spike, thanks for helping out," I said.

Spike, who I didn't know all that well, gave me a mocking salute with a grin.

He was one of those people who always seemed to have a smile on his face, as if he were privy to a joke that no one else quite understood.

Nitro had assured me that he was a decent guy, and he did turn up and help.

Finally, I turned to Marc, who stood there, still silently fuming. I couldn't let us part ways with him angry at me.

"Aren't you going to wish me good luck?" I asked.

Marc glanced at me, his expression softening as he looked into my eyes. A wave of guilt washed over me in that moment.

While I had spent the last few years under the suffocating control of Hicks, Marc had never given up on searching for me.

He'd been relentless in his efforts to bring me back, and I owed him more than I could ever repay.

But I couldn't falter now. This was the right move for me, for my healing and my future.

"Good luck," Marc finally said.

He hesitated for a brief moment, then reached out for me.

I tensed instinctively, the trauma of my captivity leaving its marks.

But Marc quickly pulled his hand back, his expression tight, and I knew he understood why I reacted that way.

"Don't act like we're saying goodbye forever," I told him, trying to ease the tension. "Come visit me at my new place, once it's decent."

"I'll do just that," he said with a nod. To Nitro, he said, “Take good care of him.”